


The Hand and the Lady

by Hlmsluvr13



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, The Lady - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-01-20 00:56:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1490791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hlmsluvr13/pseuds/Hlmsluvr13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hypothetical imagining of what transpired after Lord Tywin had the tunnel built to Chataya's while he was Hand of the King during the reign of Aerys.  He pays for the company of The Lady.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Meeting

First Meeting

Lord Tywin Lannister was looking at the detailed plans of the tunnel to the brothel. They had been completed yesterday.  
“The builders?” he murmured to Lord Baelish who stood unobtrusively at his side.  
“Dispatched as you requested, my lord,” replied Lord Baelish.  
Lord Tywin nodded once and stood up, walking absently over to a latticed window in the Tower of the Hand.  
“A woman will be there tonight and every night this week, should you wish it, my lord. I’ve engaged the best in the city, certainly the most expensive and discreet,” added Lord Baelish quietly, rolling up the plans and making a mental note about which brick to hide them behind in his office.   
“How do you know she’s the most discreet?” muttered Lord Tywin, mildly annoyed. Women and discretion seldom when hand in hand.  
“I pride myself on my ability to find out information, my lord, and in the last five years that I’ve known of her, I’ve yet to find someone who knows her real name or where she hails from,” explained Lord Baelish.  
That appeared to satisfy the lion and he remained silent.  
“I’ll take my leave, if you’ve no other instructions, my lord,” prompted Baelish, edging to the door.  
“I don’t think I need to remind you of the consequences if you should speak of this to anyone,” said the lion in a low voice.  
“I’m sure I wouldn’t live long enough to regret betraying your trust, my Lord Hand,” replied Baelish carefully.  
“On the contrary,” countered Lord Tywin Lannister, turning his sharp gaze on his councilman, “I’ll make sure that you do.”  
Lord Baelish digested the threat, bowed respectfully and removed himself as quickly as he dared.

*

Lord Tywin stood outside the door to the chamber that had been built upon his request, at the end of the tunnel which he’d commissioned, and hesitated. He hated that he had this weakness but Joanna had been gone too long and Aerys was making his job more difficult than ever. He wanted to forget, even if it was only for half an hour.  
Lord Tywin clenched his jaw and opened the door.  
The room was large and tastefully furnished with deep woods and sumptuous fabrics. A fire crackled fiercely in a large stone hearth flanked by two large arm chairs. A large fur was spread before the fire and a wide, ornate bed sat opposite it. The pleasant aroma of incense teased the air.   
The woman reclining comfortably in one of the chairs before the fire, a glass of wine halfway to her lips, paused when he entered, and then rose respectfully, setting the wine aside. The Lady stood with a perfectly straight back, shoulders squared, and yet still managed to look at ease. She wore a robe of deep purple with light gold detailing pulled closed at her narrow waist and beneath it, a gown of golden mesh. She wore no jewelry. Her thick brown hair fell in waves over her shoulders, framing her oval face and bringing out a purply blue in her wide eyes. The woman studied him for a moment, while he did the same to her and then she broke into a warm smile.  
“Good evening, My Lord Hand,” said the woman softly, watching him with a gaze that was almost too intelligent for his liking.   
When he did not speak, she moved toward him.  
“What is your name?” asked Lord Tywin pointedly, stopping her in her tracks.  
“I am Lady, my lord but you may call me anything you wish provided I do not find it offensive,” she replied, her welcoming smile never wavering.  
Lord Tywin almost snorted at her presumption.   
“If I called you a whore, would you find that offensive?” asked The Hand of the King dryly.  
“If I called you a politician, would you find that offensive?” she countered easily.  
Lord Tywin frowned. He wasn’t used to sharp tongued women.  
Lord Tywin glared at her but she did not flinch.  
“The night is a little warm for cloaks, my lord. May I?” asked the Lady, trying to change the subject, as she finished her journey to him.  
Very slowly, he untied his cloak and handed it to her.  
“Wine?” she offered as she took it from him.  
He nodded once, still studying her.   
She surprised him by dipping into a curtsey before turning away from him. She draped his cloak over the back of one of the chairs by the fire and continued on to the wine decanter on a side table.   
“Please, make yourself comfortable, my lord,” she said gently, gesturing to the chairs by the fire.  
Lord Tywin moved to stand before the fire but he did not sit down. This wasn’t going as he had expected. Although, to be fair, he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting.   
She returned swiftly and handed him a cup of wine. He took a drink, approving the expensive vintage.  
“What did Lord Baelish tell you?” asked Lord Tywin, more out of curiosity than a desire to make conversation.  
“He persuaded me that it would be in my best interest to take you on as a client, my lord,” she replied, taking a sip from her own glass, standing opposite him. The firelight glinted in her eyes.  
“You needed persuading?” he asked, letting his eyes travel down her body for the first time.  
She paused for a moment and then said quietly, “You place me in a very difficult position, my lord, and we haven’t even begun yet.”  
He ignored the lewd comment and waited for an explanation.  
“As a rule, I don’t accept dangerous clients though in your case, I was uncertain whether the greatest danger lay in accepting you or refusing you,” the Lady informed him, as she continued to look calculatingly at him.   
“You consider me dangerous?” asked the Hand of the King, running an appraising eye over her again.  
“You are Lord Tywin Lannister, and if that were not enough, you are also the Hand of the King. My Lord I know you to be dangerous,” she answered, sipping some more wine.  
He eyed the wetness on her lips and said nothing. He wasn’t paying her for her conversation and yet, he was letting her talk.  
“Given who you are, my lord, is there anything you forbid me from doing? I do not wish to displease you,” she murmured, interrupting his thoughts.  
There was another long pause before Lord Tywin heard himself say “You will not kiss me.”  
“On the mouth or anywhere?” asked the Lady, without being coy.  
The lord’s look darkened.  
“On the mouth.”  
“As you wish,” she replied, accepting his request without judgment. “While we are on the subject, you in turn, will not draw blood or leave bruises. There are plenty of other girls for that.”  
She paused a moment to see his reaction to her request.  
“I’m not interested in hurting you,” replied Lord Tywin.  
“May that desire never change,” she added, toasting him with her own glass of wine and taking another sip.  
“Shall we do something you are interested in?” she asked, setting her wine aside.  
Lord Tywin raised a golden eyebrow at her and set down his own glass.  
She held out a thin purple cord attached to the side of her robe.  
“Would you care to do with your hands what you’ve been doing with your eyes?” she suggested, looking up at him through her long lashes.   
The bulge in his breeches became uncomfortable as he tugged at the cord she handed him and watched the purple robe whisper to the floor. The outline of her full breasts against the thin, yielding golden fabric made his blood race. Her skin was pale and flawless as far as he could see, appreciating the flare of her hips and shapely legs. He reached out to touch her but she spun around unexpectedly. She glanced over her shoulder with parted lips and started sliding the golden straps from her shoulders. Lord Tywin grabbed the fabric from her fingers and yanked it down to her hips, letting it drop to the floor. She caught her breath at her sudden exposure in a way that made him ache.  
He wrapped his hands around her hips, his breathing coming quicker. As his fingers found a jagged scar on her hip, she spun around in his hands and pressed her body against him before he could say anything.  
“You are wearing far too much clothing,” she breathed, her cheeks flushed as he gripped her rounded bottom.  
In the blink of an eye, she had his tunic open and was working on his belt. He slid his hands and cupped her breasts, enjoying her gasp and the sudden fluttering of her eyes. She leaned into him again with a hooded gaze, her hands rubbing against his length through his laces.  
She tugged on the strings of his and led him in the direction of the bed, slightly out of reach of his hands. Lord Tywin opened his belt as he walked and dropped his tunic to the ground.   
When they reached the bed, she sat down and leaned in to completely undo his laces but he stopped her with a growl. The lion had had enough. He reached out and grabbed one of her arms, pulling her toward him, off the bed. Before she could get her bearings, he spun her around and bent her down over the bed, her hair flying about her face as put a hand on her back and pushed her into the covers. Lord Tywin tore open his laces as she spread her legs, arching her back and presenting herself to be taken. She cried out into the bedding as he slammed himself into her with a grunt, his fingers digging into her hips. For the first time, in a long time, the Hand’s mind went blissfully blank as he focused on the hot grip of her body as he thrust into her. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he appreciated that she wasn’t faking screams of pleasure for his benefit. Her panting gasps and occasional cries were all the encouragement he needed, if he needed any.   
To his chagrin, he didn’t last as long as he wanted, releasing inside of her with a loud groan as he pushed into her one final time. He bent over her, bracing his arms on either side of her as he caught his breath. There was a delicate flush beneath her skin and her mouth was open as she watched him hazily over her shoulder. She made a soft sound, almost of disappointment, as he slid out of her.   
Mechanically, he bent down and pulled up his breeches, tucking his shirt in. Putting everything back in place.   
“There’s water and soap behind the screen if you wish, my lord,” she whispered softly, turning around on the bed and sitting up beside him.   
“No,” was all he said.  
Lord Tywin moved to get his tunic, allowing her a discreet moment to wipe his seed from the inside of her thighs. She walked past him and gathered up his cloak.  
“You won’t stay?” the lady asked softly, holding his cloak against her breasts.  
The Hand finished closing the fastenings on his tunic and moved to stand before her. She seemed hurt that he was leaving so soon and a part of him wanted to stay, wanted to believe that she liked his company.  
But that was what he was paying her for: to pretend to want him. Not for the first time, he thrust away his loneliness, which ironically, had become nearly a constant companion since his wife’s death.  
Lord Tywin took his cloak back more roughly than he intended and swept it around his shoulders.   
“Lord Baelish has arranged your payment?” he asked coldly.  
If the Lady was taken aback, she hid it.  
“Yes,” she replied.  
Lord Tywin’s hand was on the door when he heard her ask, “Will I see you again, my lord?”  
He looked back at her, standing there naked, the firelight playing over her skin. Her hands were folded demurely over her stomach even though she was completely exposed. She was beautiful but she didn’t belong to him, at least, not beyond the time he had paid for.  
Tywin Lannister closed the door behind him without replying to her question and strode resolutely back down the tunnel to the Red Keep to his duty, his responsibilities and away from distractions.


	2. Second Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their second meeting

Second Meeting

 

Lord Tywin put the quill down and pinched the bridge of his nose. His candles were burning low and he entertained the idea of lighting new ones. Then, he glanced at the side door hidden behind a wardrobe in his chamber that led to the tunnel. His eyes flicked back and forth between the unfinished letter on his desk and the door several times before he made a decision. The lion stood up and extinguished the candles before he left.

 

 

He didn’t pause outside the door this time; he didn’t even knock. He why should he? When the room and everything in it belonged to him. Lord Tywin pushed the door open and walked inside. The Lady, in a thin, red fabric that left very little to the imagination, was lounging on the fur rug before the fire, wine glass in hand, staring unseeingly into the flames. She jumped when he entered, her large eyes going wide with surprise.

            “My lord!” she said, hastily getting to her bare feet.

            He waited until she was standing and then said drily, “You seem surprised.”

            The Lady hesitated for a second and then smiled with her eyes cast down, demurely, which startled the Hand.

            “I am surprised, my lord. When you left me, you seemed displeased. I had not thought to live out the night let alone see you again in this chamber,” she replied quietly, her eyes on him again.

            At that, Tywin Lannister dropped his own gaze for a moment, considering.

            “I was not displeased with you,” he informed her, remembering his annoyance with himself, and coming to stand before her. “I seem to recall telling you that I had no interest in hurting you.”

            “Hurting is different than killing,” she remarked with a small smile that disappeared as the frown on Lord Tywin’s face darkened.

            “Wine, my lord, or shall we attend to more pressing matters?” she asked, closing the remaining gap and leaning into his body, her hand lightly sliding along the edge of his length.

            She heard him inhale sharply through his nose as his icy gaze took in her flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips. The Lady was still touching him through his breeches.

            He reached between them suddenly and clamped a hand around her wrist, not painfully but firmly.

            “Get on your knees,” he growled, letting go of her.

            The woman smiled wickedly at the lion, gripped his dangling belt strap and pulled him with her to the other side of the fire where a full mirror rested in the corner. Faster than his own steward, her fingers flew up his black tunic opening it and pushing it off his shoulders. Her hands went to his laces as he gripped the crimson fabric at her shoulders. She heard him breathe in and hold it. She met his hooded gaze with her own smoldering one as he tore the garment in half down to her waist. She gasped and her eyelids fluttered as she shrugged out of the remains of the slip and tried not to wince as he pinched her peaked nipples. He nearly groaned aloud when he looked at their reflection in the mirror as she went to her knees. She still had a white strip of cloth around her waist which held up a small curtain of fabric half the size of one of his dinner napkins which discreetly shielded her sex and crack between her rounded cheeks. Bending down slightly, he still kept hold of her nipples, tugging them up and unbeknownst to him, making her wet.

            Without warning, the Lady licked her lips and sucked his length down her throat. Lord Tywin cried out in spite of himself, instantly letting go of her and gripping the sides of the ornate mirror in front of him. She placed her hands on his bare hips and pulled back, enjoying his uncertainty and she drew away almost far enough for him to slip out of her mouth and then slowly slid him back inside her completely.

            “ _Damnit_ ,” he swore under his breath as her forehead bumped his lower abdomen.

            She repeated the motions, adjusting a little as he began to thrust into her mouth. She slipped her hands from his hips to the warm sac between his legs, cradling and massaging him. His breathing became jagged, interspersed with sharp gasps and cries. Suddenly, he reached down and grabbed the back of her hair and held her in place as he spent himself down her throat. She lowered her hands and held her breath as well as she could, waiting for him to let go of her. Slowly, he released her hair and took a small step back, catching his breath.

            The Lady discreetly wiped her mouth and used the remains of her slip to wipe the remaining moisture from his groin. She pulled up his breeches as she stood up and laced them loosely back up for him. She smiled warmly up at him and gestured to the chairs by the fire. Lord Tywin turned without a word, walked unsteadily over to a chair and collapsed into it. The Lady drank a few mouthfuls of wine to rinse the taste from her mouth and then brought over a cup for each of them.

            She set one down on the table next to the red faced lord and took the other back to her original place on the fur rug. The Lady laid down perpendicular to him so he could admire her tantalizing profile, her bare breasts hidden slightly by the rug and her arms.

            “Will you stay a little longer this time?” she asked after a quiet moment.

            “Perhaps. I have much to do,” replied the lion, taking a drink of wine.

            “Your work will be there tomorrow I’m sure. Just relax,” she said gently, taking a sip of wine.

            He regarded her for a moment in silence.

            “You can talk to me about whatever is troubling you if you wish,” she offered softly.

            Lord Tywin snorted in amusement.

            “I don’t think I’ll be discussing the secret workings of the realm with you, Lady,” he replied, eyeing her over the rim of his cup.

            “Why not? You have been told that I’m discreet and despite your preconceived notions, I’m not stupid,” she retorted, taking a drink.

            “Really?”

            “Besides,” continued the Lady as though he had not spoken, “what would I have to tell anyone when we have never met and I am currently with someone else?”

            Lord Tywin’s green eyes sharpened slightly.

            “You have an alibi for when we are together?” asked Tywin curiously.

            “Two. They alternate depending on the day of the week. One can never be too careful, in my opinion.”

            “You speak as if from experience.”

            The Lady smiled and said nothing. Instead, she curled her legs up under her and slowly stood up. She sauntered over to him and straddled his legs, sitting on his thighs.

            He tensed and his hands went to her hips, though his eyes remained locked on hers instead of her chest. Unconsciously, his fingers found the scar on her hip and brushed over it gently.

            “I’ve had many experiences. I wouldn’t mind reliving some of them with you now unless you’d prefer I continue being clever,” she teased leaning close to his face to speak, running her fingers through his hair.

            “Go on, impress me then,” goaded the lion, watching her.

            She smiled wickedly and rolled her hips against him but he stopped her with a look.

            “Verbally,” he corrected.

            The Lady inclined her head and slid back off his lap. She walked over to her wardrobe, pulled out a green silk robe and slipped it on.

            “Did I say you could get dressed?” demanded Lord Tywin.

            “I didn’t ask,” she replied lightly, lifting her hair out of the collar and tying the band at her waist. She met his imperious gaze with a challenge of her own as she came back over to the fire and picked up her wine glass. The Lady lounged against the side of the fire place for a moment and then said quietly, “I would hate to be one of your children.”

            At that, Lord Tywin Lannister frowned.

            “Why?”

            She heard the edge in his voice that most men shrank from but continued on.

            “When you have the whole of my body to look at or touch, your eyes and fingers go to the scar on my hip. I have been told that I have many pleasing features and yet you focus on the flaw, the imperfection. What person could live up to such standards, let alone your children?” she finished quietly, taking a drink and hoping he wouldn’t notice that her knuckles were white around the glass.

            Lord Tywin set down the glass, his expression unreadable. He stood up to his full height and advanced on her. Her back was already up against the fire place; she had nowhere to go. She dropped the empty wine glass on the rug at her feet and lowered her hands, watching his approach apprehensively.

            He drew up close to her and she tilted her head back to look up at him. His eyes were cold but not murderous. She hoped. Lord Tywin raised his hands and let them rest on either side of her neck before his fingers curled around her throat. He didn’t squeeze or cause her pain, but his hands lingered; a veiled threat against her fragile windpipe. He didn’t speak but his eyes bored into hers.

            “Too clever?” she whispered, wanting to break the silence.

            Tywin remained silent, eyeing her mouth pensively, considering her words. He met her eyes suddenly and said very quietly and clearly, “Don’t ever talk about my family again.”

            “As you wish, my Lord Hand,” she agreed softly.

            He nodded once, satisfied by her response, and moved away from her. As he put on his tunic, he missed the shudder that ran through her as she touched her throat where his hands had been. Lord Tywin looped his belt and then returned to her.

            “Wear white tomorrow,” he ordered.

            “Of course, if it will please you,” the Lady replied courteously with a smile even though her hands trembled at her sides.

            He nodded again dismissively and strode to the door.

            “Good night my lord. Sleep well,” she said gently as he pulled it open.

            He turned to look at her for a moment before wishing her the same and striding back to his chambers.


	3. The Hand and the Lady Part 3

The Hand and The Lady Part 3  
“How did you get this scar?” asked Lord Tywin after he caught his breath. He was lying on his side next to the Lady who was facing him, also trying to slow her breathing after his vigorous lovemaking. Lord Tywin’s hand was clamped possessively over her hip, covering the mark in question.  
“Is it bothering you?” she asked with a smile.  
“A mistake?” pressed Tywin, ignoring her mirth.  
The Lady sighed and touched a few of the scars on the old lion’s chest.  
“You remember my rule about dangerous clients?” she replied, glancing up at him from under her lashes.  
“MmmHmm.”  
“That scar is the reason for the rule.”  
“That doesn’t really answer my question,” Lord Tywin pointed out.  
“I keep forgetting that you’re a politician and are as adept at misdirection and lying as I am,” she retorted, leaning in to kiss the wiry patch of golden hair over his heart.  
“Will you tell me how you got all of yours?” she asked before he could speak.  
“They are all from battles, not very interesting,” Lord Tywin grumbled shifting his hand to the small of her back and sliding her closer to him.  
The Lady tensed slightly. She was starting to believe that he meant it when he said he had no interest in hurting her but still, she remembered the feel of his hands on her throat several visits ago and lifetime of caution could not be undone in a week. She slid her arm under his and let it rest against his back.  
Lord Tywin sighed.  
“They are all from battles except for this one,” he corrected himself, removing his hand from her back and letting her see the gash across his forearm.  
“Oh? And what is this from?” she asked, moving her hand from his back and clasping his wrist gently.  
Tywin paused before he spoke.  
“Jaime.”  
The Lady frowned in confusion.   
“Your son?” she whispered, not understanding.  
“He was seven and it was the first time I allowed him to handle live steel. I didn’t think he would swing at me with it but he did. It was my arm or my stomach,” said Lord Tywin, remembering his anger and his son’s terror at what he had done.  
“I’m sure he was sorry,” she offered, gently running a finger tip along its length.  
“He was, and afterwards, I was sorry for yelling at him. He didn’t come near me for a week,” recounted Tywin ruefully.  
“But he learned that they were dangerous,” reasoned the Lady.  
Lord Tywin nodded against the bedding.  
They lay in silence for a time, Lord Tywin still looking at her, waiting for an answer.  
“You won’t leave until I tell you about my scar will you?” she asked with a smile.  
“You survived it and dismiss it in conversation. Whatever memories you have associated with it, you’ve made peace with as much as you can,” read Lord Tywin.  
“I have made peace with it although I’d prefer to leave it in the past,” requested the Lady, shifting slightly.  
“Tell me,” said Lord Tywin.  
“And what makes you think I’ll tell you the truth?” she quipped, raising her eyebrow.  
“Most people who lie to me don’t do it for very long,” said the Lord of Casterly Rock and the Hand of the King.  
The Lady sighed and looked away from him.  
“He was my first client. I should have been more careful about choosing but I hadn’t eaten for two days. He took what he wanted and then pulled a dagger. My screams saved my life and I bought my first loaf of bread after tending to my wound,” she recounted quietly.  
Lord Tywin listened and was about to speak when she continued.  
“He was my father. A drunken brute who finally decided that he didn’t want my mother around anymore. I got this scar trying to save her. I failed,” she finished in a whisper.  
Now Lord Tywin was frowning.  
“When I was young, a boy I liked pushed me and I fell hard on a jagged rock. He was beaten and this scar has grown with me.”  
“Stop,” demanded Lord Tywin in consternation.  
“I am doing what you wished, my lord. I have told you the truth,” promised the Lady innocently.  
“You think you’re clever,” Lord Tywin said, raising his own golden eyebrow.  
The Lady smiled at him and leaned in so her chest brushed against his. She made as if to kiss him but stopped several inches short, enjoying the sound of his breath catching in his throat and his furtive glances at her mouth.   
“I know I’m clever,” she breathed, watching the candlelight glint off the golden flecks in his green eyes.  
She slipped off the bed and poured a glass of wine which she brought back to the bed after taking a sip. The Lady handed him the glass and let him drink a mouthful before taking the glass back.  
Without warning, she tipped the glass over his chest and let some spill on him.  
The lion jerked in surprise and looked at her with a frown.  
“What are you doing?” he growled.  
He moved to wipe away some of the wine with his hand but she caught it and put it back on the bed.  
“Distracting you,” she smiled, leaning down over him. Slowly, she licked the wine from his chest.   
He stopped protesting and lay back against the bedding but kept his eyes on her. She was learning to read his breathing and he was definitely enjoying her mouth traveling all over his chest though there was still the hint of a frown darkening his brow. When the Lady had cleaned him off, she sat back up and picked up the cup again.  
“Your turn,” she entreated huskily, as she arched her back and let some wine trickle down between her breasts and pool in her lap.  
Her cheeks flushed and her heart started to race as she watched his expression change from enjoyment to hunger. In a smooth movement, that surprised her in its quickness, he pinned her on her back and then his mouth went everywhere. His tongue found the wine and plenty of other places that the wine hadn’t been. She wondered hazily if he was actually going to make it to her mouth but he stopped at her neck, nuzzling the hollow of her throat. The Lady wasn’t surprised when he pushed into her again but he had never taken her on her back before. She had always been facing away from him. Tywin groaned as she lifted her hips up to meet his thrusts, her fingernails raking down his back. The Lady opened her mouth in an ‘O’ of pleasure as he shifted again, grabbing the sheets past her head with one hand and tangling his other in her hair. His broad chest and throat filled her field of vision as he panted near her the top of her head.   
Instead of gasping, she began to murmur his name at each thrust.  
“Tywin…Tywin… TYWIN!” she cried out as she peaked for the first time in a long time with a client. She made an effort to make it seem like the others she had had for him but she needn’t have been careful. The Lion was off in his own world, burrowing for comfort at her core. He let out a strangled shout into the bedding as she felt him seize. As if her own consummation wasn’t surprise enough, when he finished, he rolled his torso off of her, so his weight didn’t cause her any discomfort and rested his head against her chest, fingers still clinging to her hair. Lord Tywin lay on her, as his breathing slowed, listening to the fading thunder of her own heartbeat. The Lady curled an arm around his back and threaded the fingers of her other hand through his golden hair, murmuring softly to him.  
She heard him murmur something back that sounded like a question although it was lost in her flesh.  
“My Lord?” she asked softly, pausing in her fingers in his hair.  
“Your name,” he repeated, pushing himself up on his elbow to look down at her.  
She smiled indulgently.  
“You already know it,” she reminded him.  
“You used mine without a title,” said Lord Tywin.  
“I thought you would like it,” the Lady replied, smiling warmly up at him.  
The Lion clenched his jaw. Of course he had liked it, that wasn’t the point.  
“I want to be able to say your name,” he tried again.  
Her smile turned a little wicked and without warning, she pushed against the center of his elbow, putting him off balance and rolling him onto his back. Her hair hung down like a curtain next to them and she looked down at him seriously.  
“I want a great many things too; things I’ll never have. My name is the only thing I’ve ever truly had to myself: My one possession. I give much when asked but even I have my limits, my lord. As do you,” she said softly, watching him carefully for any signs of anger.   
The Lord of Casterly Rock listened and showed nothing on his face.  
“When you can have anything you want at the snap of your fingers, it might be healthy for you to realize there are some things that cannot be bought.”  
Then his eyes darkened though not with anger, with pain.  
He moved her off of him and sat up, looking away from her.  
“If I truly could have anything I wanted at the snap of my fingers, I wouldn’t need you.”  
The Lady opened her mouth to say something but the gnawing ache in his voice made all the words she could think of seem meaningless.  
He began to get dressed, not looking at her anymore. She slid off the bed and slipped on her robe. She held out his crimson tunic which he put on, again without looking at her. Only when she bent to help him on with his boots, did he look at her though she didn’t see it. The Lady finished the laces and stood up, looking down at him. The Lion was hunched over, his hands resting on his knees. Without thinking, she bent down and gently kissed the top of his head, letting her hand rest against his scruffy cheek for a brief moment. Then she stood up and away from him, watching him unfold and rise to his full height before her. He met her eyes then and she held his gaze until he looked away and walked out without another word.


	4. The Hand and the Lady Part Four

Something was wrong: she could sense that at once. Lord Tywin had just come in and banged the door closed behind him but he stayed near it, one hand behind him still on the door latch. His countenance was stormy and distracted as he stared at the floor. Every muscle looked tense, poised, even his jaw was clenched.  
The Lady went to him cautiously and stood before him in a golden slip.  
“My Lord?” she asked softly, watching his face.  
He started at the sound of her voice, and looked up at her. Confusion clouded his green eyes as though he didn’t recognize her.   
“What is troubling you, my lord?” she tried again.  
His jaw worked for a moment and then he ground out, “The King burned two more people today.”  
“That’s four in the last week,” the Lady exclaimed, trying to keep the worry from her voice.  
“It’s getting worse. It would be one thing if he didn’t make them public but I cannot convince him to close the doors to the hall,” admitted the Hand of the King in an anxious tone that the Lady had never heard him use before.  
“Is there nothing you can do?” she asked gently.  
“He is the King! I can’t forbid him from doing something he views as necessary. My opinion seems to matter less and less with him of late,” growled Lord Tywin.  
The Lady stepped closer to him and reached behind him to take his hand off the door latch and the other clenched at his side. She raised his hands up and kissed the knuckles of his fingers until she felt some of the tension go out of him.  
“Forgive me for saying so my lord, but were it not for you, the Seven Kingdoms would have been at war long before now to depose this king. The Kingdoms function peacefully as a united country because of you, not because of him. You will think of something,” she assured him, clasping his hands in hers.  
He looked into her eyes and then nodded once, as if in agreement, though there was a sudden weariness about his gaze.  
“Come. There’s something I want to do for you tonight,” she beckoned leading him forward to the bed.  
He paused in his steps about halfway there and then glanced around.  
“Is it warmer in here than usual?”  
The Lady smiled.  
“That’s from the bath behind the screen in the corner. For after,” she hinted enigmatically, urging him forward again.  
When they reached the edge of the bed and she came forward to undo the fastenings on his tunic, he stopped her.  
“I don’t want…” he trailed off, unsure how to voice his lack of desire.  
“That’s not what I had in mind, but I do need you to take your clothes off and lie down,” she explained, slowly slipping her hands out from beneath his.  
The Lady removed his tunic and Lord Tywin tugged his white shirt off himself. He worried her further by offering no resistance when she gently turned him around and made him sit on the bed with one palm against his chest. She tugged each boot off, then his stockings.  
“These too, my lord, and then lie face down on the bed please,” she instructed, indicating his breeches.  
The Lady walked back over to the hearth where two large towels were warming near the flames. Behind her, she heard him remove his breeches and climb onto the bed. She picked up the towels and walked back over to him while he watched with hooded eyes. She knelt down beside him on the bed and covered his waist and everything below it with one towel and then put the other around his shoulders and back. The lion exhaled deeply and his eyes slid closed. The Lady pressed down on his shoulders and upper arms then slowly down the length of his spine. Several times, bones cracked beneath her hands and he groaned at the release of pressure. She retreated to the stand by the bed and drew out a thin bottle of oil. The Lady rubbed some on her hands and then removed the towel covering his upper body.  
“I’m going to put a little oil on your back. It will cause less friction when I rub your shoulders,” the Lady told the back of his head.  
The lion didn’t move but made a noncommittal noise in his throat that she took for confirmation.  
She slowly poured some warm oil over his shoulders and began kneading his muscles. She was dismayed at the feel of dozens of knots in his shoulders and at the base of his neck. Her hands were going to cramp with the effort. Resolutely, she rubbed the heels of her hands down the length of his shoulders and was rewarded with a long moan from him. Pleased, she repeated the motion, working her way through each knot. Lord Tywin’s head was turned to the left and after a moment, she saw his nostril twitch and his eye flicked open.  
“What’s that smell?” he demanded.  
“It’s lavender, willow root and gondrisil. For relaxation, my lord,” she said, not stopping.  
Even with only one side of his face, his grimace was pronounced.  
“I don’t want to go back to my rooms smelling like…”  
“An expensive whore?” she finished for him with a half smile. “Don’t worry, my lord; that’s what the bath is for, remember?”  
“Ahh. Continue.”   
She covered his back when she was through and rolled the towel on his legs up to mid thigh. His hamstrings and calves were tight as well. Slowly and methodically, she rubbed him down, pausing a few times to stretch her hands.   
When she was finished, she held onto the edges of each towel and requested that he roll over. It took him a moment to comply but eventually he did. She tucked the towels around him and poured a little oil on his chest. Lord Tywin opened his eyes and watched her silently. His gaze would grow hazy when she found a particularly good spot to rub but they didn’t close altogether. He watched the movements of her arms, the sway of breasts against the thin fabric and the inviting curve of her bottom as she bent over him. She kept the towel off his chest when she went to work on his legs again. As the Lady rubbed the sides of his thighs, she glanced at the towel covering his waist. If he had been lacking in desire before, he certainly wasn’t now. She slid her hands up underneath the towel, over his hips and his lower abdomen. The Lady glanced up at him and watched him as the edges of her thumbs traced him under the towel up to the tip and back down to the root. Lord Tywin’s breathing became shallower and quicker, his heated gaze watching her every move. She took his lack of protest as a tacit consent for her continued attentions. Under the towel, she slipped both hands along his length and back a few times, changing her position so she straddled his thighs and bent down toward him slightly.  
After another moment, Tywin grabbed the towel and tossed it across the bed so he could watch her hands moving over him. She lifted his manhood off his abdomen and made gentle spirals up the shaft, alternating hands. Occasionally, the tip would ooze in anticipation of release and she would lean down and suck, cleaning it with a few flicks of her tongue, before releasing him from her mouth and stroking him with her hands. The tendons in the lion’s neck stood out, his eyes shut tight, a noise pulling from him at her every movement. He tried to buck his hips but she sat on his legs firmly, holding him in place. This only made his back arch and his breathing more ragged, his knuckles went white as he gripped the sheets.   
Suddenly, she slowed her hands until she was just holding him gently.   
Lord Tywin almost choked, his head snapping up to pierce her with a glare.  
“What in Seven Hells…” he ground out.  
“I enjoy control as well, my lord,” she said softly, not moving.  
“Finish me or I’ll…” but he never got to utter his threat.  
The Lady began rubbing him again in earnest, only removing one hand from him to grab the towel closer. The lion roared and jerked as he spent himself into the towel. When the last shudder had run its course, she cleaned him gently, and threw the towel behind her onto the floor. The Lady pulled the coverlet over him and lay down next to him as he recovered.   
“You…you’ll…pay for that,” breathed Lord Tywin, his eyes still closed.  
“Perhaps I’ll enjoy it as much as you did,” she replied, tucking the blanket around him and reveling in his well oiled chest.  
Lord Tywin grunted and rolled onto his side toward her, pulling her to him. She moved toward him and then reached over him for a pillow which she placed under his head. He settled against it, his eyes never leaving her. The Lady relaxed opposite him, a warm contented look on her face. After a time, Lord Tywin’s eyes grew heavy and he slept. The Lady marked the time well, measuring it against how long the bath had been cooling for and eventually woke him with a gentle touch on his forearm.  
She may as well have stabbed him for the effect it had on the sleeping lion.  
Lord Tywin’s eyes snapped open and he sat up abruptly as though the bed had burned him.  
“My lord, please, be easy. Barely a half hour has past, I promise. Calm down, you’ll ruin all my good work,” pleaded the lady, sitting up beside him and speaking in a soothing voice.  
Lord Tywin focused on her and said, “You are sure?”  
“Yes, I know you cannot sleep the night here,” she assured him.  
“I should not have slept at all,” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes.  
“You clearly needed it and my job is to attend to your needs as well as your wants. Come, let me clean the oil from you,” coaxed the Lady, rising up and moving over to the bath in the corner. Lord Tywin reluctantly rose from the bed, pulling a towel about his waist and followed her to the bath. Steam still rose from the clear water and the gentle hint of roses. The Lady dropped a vial of liquid in and swished the water around to create a layer of foam on the surface.  
“Please,” she entreated, gesturing to the bath and then walking over to a small table with her personal things on it.  
She put her hair up while Lord Tywin slipped into the tub.  
“Too warm?” she asked coming back over and picking up a sponge.  
“Just right,” he replied, leaning back against the rim of the tub.  
The Lady soaped the sponge and gently began to clean the oil from his shoulders and chest. He leaned forward so she could reach down his back and she could feel the heat of his gaze as she bent down to rub his legs under the water.  
“That’ll do,” he said after she had finished. He took the sponge from her and tossed it over the opposite side of the tub.   
“I’ll get you a fresh towel, my lord,” she offered, rising but the Hand of the King reached out and clasped her wrist to stop her.  
“You’ll join me.”  
It wasn’t really a suggestion.  
She smiled.  
“As you wish, Lord Tywin,” the Lady acquiesced.  
She stood up and let her slightly damp slip slither to the floor.  
His eyes darkened as she lifted a slender leg to enter the water. She lowered her body down slowly and sat between his legs. The Lady carefully scooted back and reclined against his chest brushing her hands against his thighs.  
They sat in watery silence for a moment before Lord Tywin asked softly, “Don’t you ever tire of this?”   
“Tire of what?” she replied, taking one of his hands in hers and idly rubbing it.  
“This. You seem capable of far more than being a common whore,” said Tywin, twining his fingers in hers.  
“Ah but I fancy myself rather uncommon,” she countered with a smile that he heard instead of saw.  
“You know what I mean,” he insisted.  
“Why would I change it? I get paid for doing something I enjoy while giving pleasure to others. Can you say the same?” she countered, turning her head slightly in his direction.  
She could see the corner of his mouth in her periphery. It compressed slightly.   
“Giving pleasure to others is not the purpose of my position,” he corrected, sliding his hands down her arms.  
The Lady made a noncommittal noise and shifted against him slightly.  
“Put your hands on the edge of the tub and keep them there,” ordered Lord Tywin so suddenly that it took her a moment to comply.  
“Good.”  
The Lady turned her head a little further to look at him.  
“What, may I ask, is the reason for…”  
But the rest of her question was lost in a moan as Lord Tywin wrapped one arm around her chest, cupping one breast in his hand while the other slid over her abdomen and came to rest between her legs, his fingers teasing her delicate flesh.  
“My lord please…you are the client…you shouldn’t…oh…”  
“When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it,” he growled into her ear as one finger nudged her entrance.  
Her back began to arch against him as his fingers slid between her folds and pressed inside her. He could see the whiteness near her knees where they strained against the side of the tub. Her breathing became erratic and her legs trembled as she gasped against his hand. Just as she was about to crash over the edge, he removed his hand from between her legs and with the other, tweaked her nipple. The Lady jerked into his chest with a groan, her head thrown back over his shoulder.  
“My Lord,” she managed as she tried to catch her breath.  
And then his fingers were sliding over and into her again and she forgot what she had wanted to say.  
When he paused a second time, she nearly screamed. She took one hand off the rim of the tub and tried to make his arm move so he would touch her but he caught her wrist and put her hand back on the edge.  
“Control yourself,” was the soft command.  
When he took his hand away, hers remained, though the knuckles were white.  
When he allowed her to finish some minutes later, she came hard, a noise ripping from her that she hadn’t given voice to in a long time. When the waves subsided, she slumped against him, her hands splashing into the water and trailing listlessly at her side, her legs slid down until her feet pressed against the other end of the tub. He held her as she regained her composure.   
“I think the water has cooled rather too much,” said Lord Tywin, urging her to stand.  
The Lady pulled herself up and out of the tub, wrapping a towel around herself and bringing one to the dripping lion.  
He deftly dried himself and went to retrieve his clothes.  
“Was that a punishment?” she asked breathily as he drew on his boots.  
“My punishments aren’t generally enjoyable…” he murmured as he finished and stood up.  
“Will I see you again soon?” she asked, though this time she meant it rather than it just being a polite phrase to utter to departing clients.  
“Yes.”  
“Drink some water and get some sleep,” she suggested, stepping in close to run her fingers through his hair.  
His eyes fell to her mouth and stayed there. She was on the point of leaning in to kiss him when he moved away from her and went to the door.   
“Good night,” she said fondly.  
The Hand of the King looked back at her and wished her the same before returning to his own bed.


	5. The Hand and the Lady Part Five

The Lady perked up slightly at the sound of swift footsteps in the passageway. The Hand’s were usually measured, precise – these were quicker. She frowned and stood up to greet whoever opened the door. There was no way for her to lock it from her side so she moved closer to the door and waited.   
The Hand banged his way into the room and slammed it behind him. The look on his face was thunderous. Before she could say anything to find out what the matter was, he grabbed her arm and pulled her hard against him; the world slowed down as his face stopped within inches of hers, his breath brushing over her parted lips.  
“My Lord,” she whispered, but he wasn’t paying attention. He reached between them and yanked open his breeches. The Lady was about to go to her knees but Lord Tywin gripped her hips and lifted her clean off her feet. Before she could react, he slammed her back into the door and pushed up against her.  
“Bruises,” she warned breathily, “don’t…”  
“Damn your rules,” growled the lion, and with a little management, found her entrance and unceremoniously buried himself inside her as far as he could.   
She cried out in surprise at his sudden intrusion and wrapped her arms around his shoulders to brace herself. He grunted with each thrust, keeping up a nearly frenzied pace that she had not thought him capable of. At first his grunts just sounded like noises against her neck but gradually, they began to sound like a word.  
“Mine, mine, mine.”  
Lord Tywin wasn’t looking at her; she felt the press of his face into the side of her neck and his labored breathing as he neared his end.  
“Yes, yes,” she whispered next to his ear. “I am. I’m yours.”  
He stiffened with a muffled shout as he emptied himself into her. She caught her breath as she loosened her legs from his waist and he let her slide out of his grip until she was on her own two feet again. Lord Tywin’s breathing slowed as he braced himself on the door with the Lady standing between his long arms, his face still on her shoulder, his breath whispering over her flesh and down the front of her gown.  
The Lady gently put her hands against the sides of his neck and tried to get him to look at her.  
“Vexing day, my lord?” she asked quietly.  
Lord Tywin raised his head and placed one of his hands on her neck, his thumb sliding along her jaw bone.  
“Yes,” was all he said as he looked at her.  
“Then come have some wine and tell me about it,” she suggested, moving out of reach of his hand and going to the large wardrobe at the other end of the room. Lord Tywin took a moment and laced up his breeches before coming to rest in one of her chairs by the fire. He watched her slip off her gown, use it to wipe down the inside of her thighs and then twirl into her deep green, silken robe. She went to her side table next and poured a generous glass of wine for both of them. The Lady handed it to him and settled into the chair beside him, giving him her full attention.  
He took a long drink of wine and sighed.  
When he said nothing, she prompted him.  
“Is it the King?”  
The Hand of the King’s jaw worked for a moment and she saw the knuckles whiten against his goblet.  
“I think the King threatened my daughter today,” he said softly, staring hard at the flames.  
“You think?” questioned the Lady, taking a sip of her own wine.  
“He didn’t say it in as many words but it felt like a threat. He mentioned wanting to burn another belligerent today as we were standing in the hall outside the Small Council chamber despite the fact that I had counseled him against it this morning. Cersei, my daughter, walked past us and Aerys watched her go with this strange gleam in his black eyes. Then he gave me a long look and warned me against trying to dissuade him,” finished Tywin, taking another long drink.  
The Lady was silent for a moment.  
“Send her away from court,” suggested the Lady.  
“No. I wish to marry her to the King’s son. It will be more difficult to do if she is not present at court,” replied Lord Tywin immediately.  
“But if the King has threatened her through you, surely you can’t think that he would accept…” began the Lady but trailed off once Lord Tywin flashed her a look.  
“I will do what I must for the elevation of my family and so will Cersei,” pronounced the Lord of Casterly Rock with a heavy finality in his tone.  
The Lady mulled this over as she sipped her wine, trying to understand the man before her. But he was paying her to please and comfort him; not worry and annoy.  
“No my Lord, I’m sure he would not threaten a member of your family,” she said confidently, watching his reaction.  
“Oh? And why not?” asked Lord Tywin, fixing his sharp, green gaze on her.  
“Because when you were 18, you showed the Seven Kingdoms exactly how you intended to deal with those who threatened your family. The King may be mad but I’m sure he has no wish to die,” reasoned the Lady.   
Lord Tywin continued to gaze at her long after she had finished speaking, until she was on the verge of asking if she had offended him, when he spoke.  
“Have you ever been married?”  
After a beat of surprised silence, the Lady managed: “my Lord?”  
“It’s a simple question.”  
“Yes but I’m unsure as to why you are asking it.”  
“Because I wish to know the answer. Don’t be difficult.”  
“No, I’ve never been married and I never will be,” she replied, taking a drink.  
Lord Tywin frowned.  
“Why? I think you would make someone a suitable wife,” said Lord Tywin, confused.  
“What advantage is there to being a ‘suitable wife’ as you call it? I see only disadvantages,” she retorted.  
“You gain power and influence through a husband…” began lord Tywin but Lady overrode him.  
“Unless the woman is the one with the power and influence and then she loses it all to her husband who has done nothing to earn it except say a few words in front of some people and bed her.”  
“That situation is unlikely.”  
“Here in Westeros, yes, I grant you, it is unlikely for a woman to have influence or power. What else do you imagine a woman gains through marriage?” continued the Lady.  
“Protection,” replied the Hand of the King.  
“I can protect myself and have many in my employ sworn to protect me with their lives. What is one’s man vow to that?” dismissed the Lady with a wave of her hand.  
“Legitimate children,” persisted Lord Tywin, growing more intrigued.  
“Legitimate children are required for inheritance. That is not a concern of mine since my wealth is largely portable and land is a liability,” she went on.  
“And before you ask, no I’ve never had children and don’t wish to. I’ve seen many horrible things in my time, most of them happening to children. I will not go through the pain of bringing a child into this world to see it slaughtered in front of me,” she finished quietly, taking a long drink of wine and looking into the flames.  
Lord Tywin cleared his throat uncomfortably and was silent for a time.  
“You’ve spent time in Essos then,” said Lord Tywin.  
“I’ve spent time in most of the major cities of this world. Some of the terrors I’ve seen were in the shadow of your palace,” she replied, a slight edge in her voice.  
“Then why do you stay here if this city disgusts you?” demanded the Hand of the King indignantly.  
“I go where I wish when I wish. That is also something a wife may not do.”  
“You have made yourself clear, Lady, though my final question would be whether or not you have ever been in love?” asked Lord Tywin pointedly.  
The Lady turned and met his gaze for a moment before replying “yes, I have.”  
“But you did not wish to bind yourself to him?”  
“No. I loved him but I knew what kind of man he was and what our marriage would have been like if I had given myself to him,” she replied with a heavy voice.  
You valued your independence more than the life you could have had with him,” said Lord Tywin judgmentally.  
“Were I to be married, I would be required to perform all the duties I currently do plus many more that are restrictive, humiliating and possibly painful were he to be abusive. And all without the possibility of being paid for it. I still fail to see how that way of life is better than my own current situation,” said the Lady rising and moving to refill her cup. “Does my independence threaten you?”  
“No. I prefer stronger women to weak, helpless ones,” replied Lord Tywin, also rising.  
She turned and poured him another glass as well. Her eyes flicked up to his.  
“Why should I believe that coming from one of the most dominant males I have ever met?”  
“Because I married one,” said Lord Tywin Lannister softly, meeting her gaze until she looked away.  
“Then I envy you, for the opportunity to have had both, my Lord,” she acquiesced, setting down her cup without drinking from it and lowering her eyes.  
Lord Tywin set his glass down as well and reached out to take her hand but the Lady moved back from him slightly and said quickly, “I’m sure the King will not harm your daughter, not when he knows the consequences.” Before Lord Tywin could say anything, she moved away to go stand before the fire; she was agitated by their conversation and growing irritated with herself for allowing it to show.  
She gave herself a mental shake and took a deep breath, glancing back at Lord Tywin with a smile.   
“Forgive me, my Lord. I am usually better at keeping my guests happy and distracted. I don’t seem to be able to consistently do that with you,” she apologized as he slowly approached her again.  
She looked back into the flames.  
“I will understand if you wish to have someone else,” she started to say but a snort from the Hand of the King stopped her words.  
“Do you imagine I’d prefer some empty headed, foul mouthed slut to you?” demanded Lord Tywin in a hard voice.  
The Lady met his fierce gaze.  
“She might give you less trouble than I do,” suggested the Lady with a small smile.  
“She would please me far less,” he insisted, placing a hand on her arm.  
She put her hand over his and looked up at him.  
“I’m happy to please you, my Lord,” said the Lady sincerely.  
“Tywin,” he corrected, with a shake of his head.  
“Lord Tywin,” she tried again.   
“No, just Tywin,” he requested.  
The Lady smiled and clasped his hands, understanding.  
“Tywin,” she said warmly.  
The corner of his mouth quirked in a way she hadn’t seen yet and then he said, “There are several things I need to attend to. I will return soon,” said the lion, pressing her hands and then walking to the door.  
He stopped halfway there and looked back.  
“I apologize if I hurt you,” offered the Hand of the King, watching her.  
“You didn’t, my… Tywin,” she corrected.  
Lord Tywin gave her a look that she couldn’t quite interpret, nodded and then left her alone with her thoughts.


	6. The Hand and the Lady Part 6

“Mine, mine, mine.”  
“Yes, I am. I’m yours.”

After Lord Tywin left, the Lady stood near the door motionless, silently arguing with herself. 

I said that because it was what he wanted to hear. I say that to all of them. I didn’t mean it.  
Didn’t you? Are you sure?  
Of course not! He is one of the most ruthless, cold blooded bastards I’ve ever let lay a hand on me.  
He’s also damaged and broken underneath; you are drawn to that.  
I’m drawn to fire as well; I don’t try to hold it in my hand.  
You swore you would never let yourself belong to any man.  
And I never will.   
Least of all a man like Lord Tywin. He is just like…

ENOUGH.

The Lady straightened her back, raised her chin and resolutely left their chamber.

 

“What in Seven Hells were you doing?” demanded the Hand of the King angrily as he strode into the room, forgetting to close the door behind him. “Stop smiling like that!”  
The Lady’s happiness and smile slid from her face.  
“I am relieved to see you unharmed, Tywin. The riot was so close to you and the King…” began the Lady again but Lord Tywin cut her off.  
“Why were you there?”  
“I have as much right to walk through the public square and try to catch a glimpse of the King and our nobility as anyone else in King’s Landing. Were you afraid I would call out to you?” she replied waspishly. “I was under the impression you thought me more sensible than that.”  
“I think you have a healthy enough respect for your own neck that you will continue to be silent about these meetings,” he retorted.  
“If I am killed, there are those who would take notice and start asking questions,” said the Lady enigmatically, thinking about her other powerful patrons.  
“A lion doesn’t concern himself with the opinions of a sheep,” snapped Lord Tywin Lannister.  
“Of course you do! Don’t lie to me; I’m better at it than you are,” she shot back, throwing her wine glass into the fireplace.  
Lord Tywin’s eyes narrowed dangerously.  
“Be careful, Lady.”  
“If you didn’t care what people think of you, you would install me in a lavish room near yours in the Tower of the Hand and acknowledge me as your mistress instead of sneaking down a secret tunnel to see me in the middle of the night.”  
Lord Tywin clenched his jaw and a dangerous look filled his pale eyes. The Lady felt the ghost of his grip on her throat and she swallowed reflexively.  
“You know perfectly well I cannot do that. Nor would I. You think you mean anything to me?” he demanded, striding up to her.  
“You came all this way after a vicious riot when your palace might still be in danger and ordered my presence to tell me I don’t mean anything to you?” she asked softly, keeping his hands in her periphery.  
She watched his hands open and close a few times, the dangerous glint never leaving his cold eyes.  
“You said “mine” the last time you fucked me,” she reminded him.  
“Of course you’re mine, you foolish woman. I pay you to be mine. You would do well to remember that,” he growled.  
I don’t think I’m the one in danger of forgetting it, she thought silently and then voiced another.  
“You asked me once if I had regrets about this life,” she said quietly as he turned on his heel and strode to the door. He paused, standing tensely in the doorway and looked back at her.  
“I have a few. That if we had been different people and met under different circumstances, things might be easier now. I regret knowing that, when I tell you I care for you, that you are the bravest and most iron willed man I have ever had the honor of sharing company with, you won’t believe me. To you, I’m a lying whore, not a person. I feel that regret now,” she finished, looking into the flames but aware of his waiting presence in her periphery.  
Lord Tywin Lannister frowned and hesitated.   
She was a whore, and whores lie. But…  
He opened his mouth to say something but she drew herself up suddenly and fixed him with an indifferent gaze he had never seen her wear before.  
“You should return to your palace, my lord. There are those who need your reassurance and protection now, far more than I ever will,” pronounced the Lady firmly, her chin raised.  
Whatever he had been about to say died in his throat.  
“You will be here two nights from now,” commanded the patron, in the same cool voice as hers.  
“I will wait all night, if it will please my lord,” replied the whore, meeting his gaze without flinching and continuing to stare at the space where he had been long after he had left.


End file.
